


Peel and Stick

by camellia



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clown what clown, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camellia/pseuds/camellia
Summary: In Eddie’s mind, Richie and the future have become inseparable. Now he just has to figure out why, preferably before Richie’s homecoming date jumps him.





	1. Chapter 1

It was the last day of junior year, and Eddie Kaspbrak was freaking out.

 

“Where the fuck is San Luis Obispo?” he said, worrying on his lower lip as he and Richie jogged down the steps of Derry High.

 

“Somewhere in fucking California, apparently," Richie groaned. He couldn't believe Went and Maggie would do this to him. His last summer with the losers. His last summer, maybe in forever, with Eddie. He had big plans. Big plans! And now, just because his cousin Angela was getting hitched to some billionaire dotcom executive, his parents were hauling ass all the way across the country, and taking a fucking road trip to boot. Just like that, his July was gone. "We're driving from Colorado, probably on the fucking Oregon Trail."

 

"What!? But your dad hates driving!" Eddie replied.

 

This was true. Wentworth Tozier hated driving so much that he had literally retrofit his garage into a dental clinic, just so he wouldn't have a commute. And it wasn't just the driving. Richie was just a touch concerned that his dad, a boring-as-fuck tooth driller who though tennis was the height of suspense, had started wearing Led Zeppelin tees and playing _Stairway to Heaven_ on the fucking boombox. Richie's minimal consolation was that Eddie seemed genuinely distressed at Richie's looming absence. He hadn't even commented on the dysentery.

 

“Yeah, he's definitely going through a midlife crisis," Richie shook his head. "Damn old people. They should really just put people down after age 50."

 

"That's why they have colonoscopies," Eddie snort-giggled. "They stick a camera up your ass hoping you’ll bail out." He sniffed as they reached the intersection, waiting at the red light. Eddie's sniffs meant he was about to get serious. "I wish we could've spent the summer together," he said, with a small pout that turned Richie’s ears red.

 

“Me too, Eds,” Richie said. _Tell him you like him_ , a familiar voice in Richie’s head said. _You’re going away for the summer, tell him you like him before some dickwad snatches him up._ Damn that voice. It had first emerged in first grade as a whisper, when Eddie had shown up as the adorable new kid in class with bright brown eyes, floppy fluffy hair, and a Pocahontas t-shirt that he insisted was not from the girl's section. Over the years it only grew stronger, every time Eddie wore short shorts, or bit his lip, or so much as breathed in Richie’s direction, which was _all the fucking time_. Thankfully, joking about Eddie’s thoroughly unattractive mom usually defused his imminent boner. “Wish I could take Mrs. K on the road,” Richie added, waggling his eyebrows, "if you know what I mean."

 

“Oh, shut up,” Eddie said, without any real heat. They crossed the street to Derry Avenue, where Ben and Beverly were already sitting outside Coldstone Creamery, sharing a banana split. Mike was there as well, aggressively slurping on a double scoop cone with his on-again, off-again girlfriend Courtney. Stan, ever serene, surveyed the scene as if it were an episode of National Geographic, which to him it probably was.

 

“Sup losers," Richie said, stealing a strawberry from Bev and Ben's sundae. He looked around. "Where’s Billiam?”

 

“He’s at the post office,” Stan replied. “The deadline for his essay contest was today.”

 

“Brangelina, you're late," Bev said. Bev had started calling them Brangelina as a joke, since Richie and Eddie were practically joined at the hip, sometimes even moreso than her and Ben. Richie was secretly pleased, though he did a pretty piss-poor job of hiding it. Eddie reflexively rolled his eyes, though he put up with it for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

 

“Mrs. O’Brien made Richie stay behind and clean the blackboard after he said Quentin and Caddy should just go fuck in _The Sound and the Fury_ ,” he reported primly. This prompted a chorus of, “That’s fucking gross, man,” from Mike, “That was subtext,” from Stan, and “Who’s Fury?” from Courtney.

 

“I think she just wanted me to clean her behind, if you know what I mean,” Richie said, waggling his eyebrows.

 

“Ugh, Richie,” Eddie said. “She’s literally seventy.”

 

“Vag’s age like fine wine,” Richie said, to another round of good-natured groaning.

 

At that point, Bill ran over, looking victorious. “S-sorry I’m late,” he said. "S-stupid fucking post office is slower than the DMV."

 

“No worries,” Ben said, polishing off the last of the banana split. “Richie was just talking about screwing grandmas.”

 

“Oh, shit, we should move it,” Bev glanced at her watch. She chewed furiously on another dollop of icecream. “ _The Break-Up_ starts in ten minutes.”

 

The Loser’s Club, not really feeling like losers anymore, drifted down the street towards the Aladdin. At that moment, laughing deliriously at Richie’s impersonation of Mrs. O’Brien during a nursing home orgy while the smell of popcorn wafted enticingly through the air, Eddie felt like he was floating.


	2. Chapter 2

Eddie barely lasted two weeks without Richie when he realized that he needed a job. Usually he and Richie would wander around Derry, joined by any other losers available, but now Richie was on some fucking Von Trapp Family Tour through the Rocky Mountains. And if he had to watch _The Price is Right_ with his mom one more time, he was going to rip his eyeballs out. He had tried fifth-wheeling Ben, Beverly, Mike, and Courtney once, and had nearly died of boredom. Bill was taking art classes, reading _The Little Friend_ , and working on a novel that he wouldn’t let Eddie see, crowding him out when Eddie tried to peek over his shoulder at the monitor. Stan was working an honest-to-god job at the city council and probably preparing a run for the presidency. So, the Monday after July 4th, Eddie took the "Help Wanted" sign in the window of the Aladdin to heart and asked if they had any openings. After showing his driver's license to a skeptical manager to confirm that he was over sixteen (almost seventeen, actually, thanks) and not in fact twelve, he was hired on the spot. His first shift was tomorrow, because apparently one of the cashiers had imbibed one too many bags of salted, buttery popcorn and was now laid up in the hospital with heart failure.

 

Sonia Kaspbrak noticed something was wrong when Eddie emerged at 8:00 AM, two hours earlier than usual, with his hair combed and parted on the side. “Sweetie, where are you going?” she called from her customary position on the recliner.

 

“I have a shift at the Aladdin” Eddie said, pushing his feet into his shoes and nearly sprinting out the door before his mom could react. “Gottagomommybye!”

 

“Hi Eddie,” the manager nodded. "Could you help out on register one? Just like we practiced yesterday," he said.

 

"Sure," Eddie chirped. He slipped on his Aladdin hat and turned on the register, wrinkling his nose slightly at the pervasive smell of grease. His fellow cashier was a depressed-looking guy he had never seen around Derry before, with straight bangs and either subtle eyeliner or severe insomnia.

 

“Hey, I’m Eddie,” he said tentatively. “I’m, uh, new.”

 

To his surprise, the other guy broke out into a wide grin. “Hey, man. Jason. Bob told me you're taking over for Paul.”

 

Eddie nodded, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Are you new too?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Nah, I’m just popping in until my summer gig at this lab starts,” Jason said. “I used to work here in high school, though, so Bob was nice enough to hook me up with a few shifts.”

 

“Oh, are you in college?” Eddie replied, impressed.

 

A storm of hyperactive Derry High freshmen drowned out any response, and Eddie scrambled frantically ringing up five large popcorns, two hotdogs, three nachos, and six ICEEs.

 

“I just finished junior year at Brown,” Jason said once the crowd dispersed. “Working in Bar Harbor starting in July.”

 

“Are you from Derry?” Eddie said incredulously.

 

 “Yeah, but my parents sent me to a boarding school,” Jason said. At the look of disappointment on Eddie’s face, he laughed. “Yeah, I know, this place is kind of a shithole. But trust me, you’ll get out.”

 

“Probably not,” Eddie sighed. He turned and rung up another guest.

 

“You will, man, you will.”

 

The rest of the shift passed amicably, apart from one whiny toddler spilling their junior mints all over the ground, which Eddie had to help sweep up. He didn’t see Jason again until his next shift two days later, when the topic of college came up again.

 

“It’s fucking awesome,” Jason said. “I’m actually an English major and I sort of want to be a journalist, but I’ve always liked science and friend’s dad actually owns this lab and my uncle’s the lab manager, plus Bar Harbor is pretty awesome, so,” he clapped his hands together and made a gushing sound that Eddie supposed was either an explosion or an orgasm. “What about you, man, what do you want to do?”

 

Eddie had heard the same question from Mrs. Gory, the Derry High guidance counselor. Under the weight of Mrs. Gory’s beady judgmental eyes, he had barely squeaked out, “Pharmacy tech?” It seemed like a safe answer. He wasn’t a straight A student like Stan, but he had gotten a surprisingly good score on his SATs, so he knew he wasn’t a total dummy.

 

Jason wasn’t Mrs. Gory though, and he seemed wiser to boot. “I don’t know,” Eddie said, “Maybe a pharmacy tech or ... maybe a biologist?" He shrugged. "But I’m not smart or anything,” he amended quickly.

 

“Hm,” Jason said thoughtfully. "You ever been in a lab before?"

 

"No," Eddie said morosely. "Derry probably only has like, three beakers and one petri dish total. I took AP Bio last year, and we didn't even do any experiments."

 

He turned back to his register quietly. Jason, who was now fiddling with his phone, probably thought he was a pathetic moron. After they each rang up a few more customers and started refilling the Flavacol in the popcorn machine, Jason piped up again. “You should come work in the lab,” he said.

 

Eddie looked up. “Me?”

 

“Yeah,” Jason replied, "if you want," he added. He poured another packet of unnatural yellow dust into the funnel. “The lab I’m working at in July. I think they do stuff on viral infections. I just asked my uncle if you could help out. He said he could always use an extra hand with the glassware and stuff, and he could probably pay you a couple dollars an hour. It might not be your thing, but,”

 

“Oh, no,” Eddie said, eyes shining. “That’s _exactly_ my thing.”

 

That night, after his mom fell asleep on the recliner at 9 PM as per usual, Eddie turned on her computer, googled _Dr. Stedman Jackson Laboratory_ , and opened up the AOL Instant Messenger he had covertly installed.

 

 **EdKaspbrak89:** richie  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** eds my love  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** were at big sur  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** wish you were here  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** wuts cookin  
**EdKaspbrak89:** im working at the aladdin  
**EdKaspbrak89:** and  
**EdKaspbrak89:** i might go help out at some science lab in bar harbor  
**EdKaspbrak89:** just like cleaning and stuff  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** dr K  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** nerd alert  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** jk try not to get too excited and cum all over the lab  
**EdKaspbrak89:** richie y would i do that  
**EdKaspbrak89:** then id have to wipe it up


	3. Chapter 3

Eddie wasn’t a nerd. He just wasn’t. Sure, he did have an A/B+ average, and he was the only male flute player at Derry High (and all of Derry County, but he didn’t know that). Yes, he was treasurer for the Derry High Red Cross, and he loved watching House. And he did enjoy, perhaps a little too much, his job at Jackson Laboratory: cleaning glassware, making gels, calibrating the pH meter, and learning about infections (and how to avoid them). But, if you called him a nerd to his face, he would turn red and curse up a storm.

 

“H-hey Eddie,” Bill greeted, as Eddie slid into the backseat of Stan’s car. It was a humid weekend in the waning summer, and the losers in town were meeting up at the mall. Stan had made a killing in web design and bought a respectable used Toyota Camry with his earnings, which he called The Petrel and everyone else called the Losermobile.  

 

“How’s the lab?” Stan asked. Stan was the only one who didn’t roll his eyes when Eddie talked about Dr. Stedman and the little project on tumor immunology that he’d given Eddie.

 

“W-whoa, guys, look,” Bill interrupted, pointing out the window as they rolled onto the next block. Stan, ever the conscientious driver, slowed down and pulled over. They were just across the street from Richie’s house.

 

There was a brand spanking new black Vespa and shiny light blue Mercedes in the driveway. “I didn’t know he was back,” Stan said.

 

“I-I guess the road trip didn't cure the midlife crisis,” Bill remarked.

 

“Yeah,” Eddie laughed. He hadn’t talked to Richie in almost three weeks. Apparently, it was hard to get phone reception, much less internet access, while having the time of your life in California. Not that Eddie was bitter about it. When they last talked, Richie was bragging about almost banging a chick on Huntington Beach (keyword: almost).

 

A man sporting a black baseball cap emblazoned with a comically angry tiger (named “Ed Hardy,” it seemed) emerged from the garage. His t-shirt was also obnoxiously loud, and his frayed cargo shorts seemed to be in danger of falling down entirely. For one wild moment, the losers wondered if Richie’s family had moved. But then, he readjusted his hat, looked over, and broke into a huge grin. “HEY!” he bounded over to the Camry like an overexcited golden retriever. “Stan my man! Billiam! Eddie Spaghetti!”

 

“Hey,” Eddie said faintly. Richie had definitely shot up at least three inches over the summer, his hair wilder than ever, and his voice was somehow deeper, which wasn’t fair seeing as how Eddie was only 5’ 6” and still mistaken for Mrs. Kaspbrak over the phone.

 

“We’re going to Crescent Mills,” Stan said, “Want to come?”

 

“Aww yeah, perfect timing,” Richie said. “HEY, MOM, I’M GOING TO THE MALL,” he shouted at the open garage door, then slid into the backseat with Eddie, their knees bumping together.

 

The scent of something clean and salty, like the ocean, wafted in. “Are you wearing air freshener?” he said, sniffing the air with interest.

 

“Cologne, Eds,” Richie said, as Bill and Stan laughed. He sprawled out over the back seat, his long limbs reaching into Eddie’s personal space. “Girls love this shit.”

 

“S-so does Eddie,” Bill snorted.

 

Eddie flushed. “I just noticed because I'm used to you smelling like a urinal,” he said.

 

The mall was, apparently, the place to be for teens who weren’t invited to parties on a Saturday night. They made their way over to Starbucks where Ben and Mike were hanging out. Richie adjusted his way-too-baggy shorts and confidently walked over, with Eddie trailing right behind him.

 

“Is that Richie?” Ben whispered, slightly concerned. Richie was dressed like someone who would bully Ben’s bullies.

 

“Haystack! Mikey!” Richie said. As he walked by, a group of senior girls who Eddie barely knew giggled. “Where’s Bev?”

 

“She’s in New York,” Ben explained. Before he could elaborate further, a girl with chunky highlights and a mouthful of braces broke into their circle.

 

“Hey Richie,” she said, waving awkwardly.

 

“Stephanie?” Richie guessed. He must have been right, because she beamed, braces glinting in the light.

 

“Oh my god, yeah! 2nd period English. What are you guys up to?” she asked, to a few seconds of dead silence.

 

Mike, despite getting homeschooled for most of his life, was actually the least socially awkward of the losers. “We were uh, just going to get some burgers at Five Guys,” he volunteered.

 

Another one of Stephanie’s friends, who Eddie recognized a clarinet player from his band class, piped up. “Ohh, can we come with?”

 

“Y-yeah sure,” Bill nodded. Eddie shot him a poorly concealed look of distress.

 

As they made their way towards the food court, Eddie pulled Bill back. “What the actual fuck?” he said.

 

“I think Richie's popular,” Bill said, in mild disbelief.

 

“Richie is going to be drowning in-” Mike whispered, but he was interrupted by a sharp jab from Eddie.

 

As Eddie cast sullen glances at Richie sitting at the edge of their group, instead of the middle, drawing delighted screams from Stephanie and her friends, he knew Mike was right.

 

“And I thought Courtney was bad,” Stan remarked mildly, methodically eating his fries.

 

“Thank you!” Eddie said. as Bill and Ben exchanged a _look_. Eddie sniffed. He didn’t look too closely at the fact that at the moment, he was more jealous of Stephanie than he was of Richie. It was a completely reasonable reaction. First, he was just pissed that Stephanie was monopolizing his best friend, who was just too nice to tell her and her fan club off. Second, why would he be jealous of Richie? Stephanie’s outfit was horrible. If Beverly were here, they would totally judge her cowl neck dress and way-too-clunky belt. The belt wasn’t even holding anything up! It was useless!

 

“Wait up,” Mike interjected, a beat later, after he had scarfed down his burger. “What’s wrong with Courtney? I thought you guys liked her!”


	4. Chapter 4

On Eddie’s last day in the lab, Dr. Stedman asked to meet in his office. Eddie had a sinking feeling that he might be in trouble, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He ran through all of his transgressions in the past one and a half months. He had made a mess of the microwave on his first day when his gel bubbled right out of the flask, but Jason’s uncle, Patrick, had assured him it was par for the course. He wiped his hands, hoping they weren’t too sweaty, and knocked on the door.

 

”Come in, Eddie,” Dr. Stedman said. Eddie lowered himself nervously into one of the brown leather armchairs across from Dr. Stedman’s huge oak desk, trying not to stare too much at the dozen plaques on the wall. 

 

Dr. Stedman clasped his bony hands together. He reminded Eddie of an archetypal father or grandfather figure. He wouldn’t know, as he had neither. “So,” he said, “did you have fun?”

 

”Y-yeah!” Eddie said, somewhat startled by the easy question. “I had a great time. It was my first time in a lab and it was so much fun and so interesting. I w-wish we had one in Derry.” Jeez, he was starting to sound like Bill. “Thanks for, uh, hiring me.”

 

“Well, we were very glad to have you. I heard you were a great help to Patrick,” Dr. Stedman nodded. 

 

”He was a great teacher,” Eddie said. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

 

“You’re graduating from high school next year, yes?” Dr. Stedman peered at him. “Derry High? How do you like it there?”

 

”Uh,” Eddie paused. Was this is trick question? Derry High was wholly average, and Dr. Stedman knew it. He and Jason’s parents apparently paid thousands of dollars a year just to send their kids to some private boarding school in Portland. “It’s been passable,” he shrugged. 

 

Dr. Stedman led out a brief, barking laugh. “What do you want to study in college?”

 

“I don’t know yet, but maybe biology,” Eddie said. “The tumor infiltrating lymphocytes were pretty interesting. I mean, using the immune system to kill tumors. Instead of, like, chemo.” He remembered the cold, medicinal smell of the hospital and the stiff bedside armchair from when his dad was sick. The billion plastic tubes running from bruised arms to an infernal, beeping plastic box. Holding his dad’s thin, clammy hands in the dark.

 

Dr. Stedman smiled. “I think you’re onto something. Well, if you need a college recommendation letter, just email me. I expect great things from you, Eddie.”

 

Strange. No adult had ever expected great things from him. His mom would probably be overjoyed if he took over as pharmacy tech under Mr. Keane at Walgreen’s. He didn’t know what his dad would expect, if he were alive, but for a moment he imagined that this was what having a proud parent felt like. He wanted to bottle it up and keep it.

 

Eddie’s first day back at school was, surprisingly, not terrible. As seniors, the losers were about as far up the food chain as they could be. Mike, who had transferred to Derry High in junior year, was on the basketball team, which bought them protection from most of the jocks. Plus, half of the Bowers gang had dropped out or been suspended in the past few years, which meant that apart from the occasional jeers from the football team, they were left well enough alone.

 

“So, Eds, Dr. K, pick up any hot chicks in the lab?” Richie said as they walked to gym class.

 

“Ew no, everyone was like, over thirty except for Jason,” Eddie said.

 

“You talk about Jason a lot,” Richie observed.

 

“Sorry,” Eddie frowned. “He was just really nice, and he drove me to the lab every day and gave me all this advice on college. It was like having a big brother.”

 

“He drove you every day!?” Richie squawked. “He didn’t lay a hand on you, did he?” he said in mock horror.

 

“Gross, Rich, I said he was like a brother,” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose as they walked into the locker room. It was one of his least favorite places: testosterone overload, dirty-as-fuck teenage boys, and he couldn’t wash his gym clothes nearly as often as he would have liked.

 

“Hey shorty,” someone cackled from behind him, slapping a wet towel on his ass.

 

“That’s fucking sexual harassment, Brad!” Eddie snapped, as Richie shouted, “Don’t touch him asswipe or I’ll rip your dick off!”

 

“Gross,” Eddie said. They headed outside, keeping to the back as everyone ran laps around the track. “So did you really do it with that girl?”

 

“Nah,” Richie said. “I did feel her boobs though. Great boobs, so fucking soft,” he said.

 

“Beep beep,” Eddie groaned.

 

“Not as a soft as this, though,” Richie smirked, tickling Eddie’s stomach.

 

”Asshole,” Eddie squealed. He started sprinting, because he knew he could outrun Richie even though Richie’s legs were like stilts. He weaved in and out of his classmates, enjoying the air whipping past him. Behind him, Richie was running as fast as he could, arms flailing, right through a herd of slow-jogging girls who scattered like a group of giggling pigeons.

 

”Got you,” Richie huffed, grabbing Eddie’s midsection.

 

”TOZIER!” the P.E. teacher shouted. “No roughhousing!”

 

”Got it, coach!” Richie yelled back. He resumed jogging next to Eddie. “But seriously, spaghetti man, I want to do it this year,” Richie said. “We can’t graduate as fucking virgins.”

 

“I thought you said you lost your virginity in seventh grade,” Eddie snorted.

 

“But that was to your mom,” Richie said. Then he got that faraway look in his eyes that Eddie had seen more and more of, like he was thinking about something that he couldn’t quite say aloud. Eddie didn’t know what to make of it. “This time I want it to be serious,” he continued. “I want it to mean something.”

 

“Stephanie seemed seriously into you at the mall,” Eddie mumbled. He was still a little ticked off from that night at the mall.

 

“Dude, she has braces,” Richie said. “Those blowies would suck. My dick would get shredded.”

 

“So you get a girlfriend,” Eddie said. “A Bev to your Ben.”

 

“Yeah, something like that,” Richie said, running his hand over his face.

 

“So who do you have in mind?”

 

“You,” Richie said, point blank. He looked so solemn, Eddie broke out laughing.

 

“Yeah, good one,” Eddie said, ignoring the warm thrill up his spine. “I’m sure you could get anyone you wanted,” he said. “I mean, the gallon of cologne, that huge ass trucker hat, all of this,” he waved his hand up and down. “Who could resist?”

 

For a moment Richie looked almost disappointed, but then he pulled Eddie close as they followed the rest of the class back to the gym. “I really missed you, Eds,” he said, his head muffled in Eddie’s hair.

 

“I missed you too, Richie,” Eddie said, combing his hair back down.

 

During lunchtime, seniors could sit anywhere, which meant that instead the linoleum prison of a cafeteria, the losers had finally commandeered a sought-after picnic table out front.

 

“You _haven’t_ seen Brokeback Mountain?” Beverly said indignantly.

 

“It’s not my thing. Two gay cowboys?” Mike shrugged. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added hastily as Eddie and Richie joined the group.

 

“We could watch The Wicker Man,” Ben suggested.

 

“That shit looks so ridiculous,” Mike laughed. “When I saw Nicholas Cage in the trailer, wearing his fucking bee hat.”

 

“Th-that’s why we should watch it,” Bill chimed in. “Tonight?”

 

“I have tutoring tonight, what about tomorrow,” Stan said.

 

“What do you need tutoring for!?” Richie said.

 

“I’m the tutor,” Stan said simply. Suddenly a paper airplane drifted by Richie and poked Stan in the cheek. Eddie could hear a few titters escape from a group of girls sitting a few feet away, all of them studiously avoiding eye contact.

 

Stan unfolded the airplane. “I think this is for you,” he snorted, laying the note on Richie’s school cafeteria nachos.

 

“You’re hot, call me,” Eddie read, stringing together the misshapen pink bubble letters. A phone number followed. The whole group laughed as Richie crumpled up the piece of paper, but Eddie noticed with a frown that he didn’t throw it away.

 

In the afternoon, Eddie had a mandatory meeting his counselor Mrs. Gory, who seemed faintly impressed when Eddie mentioned his summer jaunt in the lab. He could see the little gears turning below her pixie cut wig as she looked as his file. “Hm,” she said, “Did you mother go to college? What about your father?”

 

“Huh? No, I don’t think so,” Eddie said. He couldn’t imagine his nightgown-clad mother as a co-ed. Barf. “And, uh, I’m not sure about my dad, but I think he just worked in the shipyard so probably not?”

 

“Oh, that’s right,” Mrs. Gory said, scanning his file. “Your father is dead.” She frowned, as if just discovering this information. “And your extracurriculars,” she said, squinting at the paper. “Lab, Red Cross. And don’t you play the triangle?”

 

“The flute,” Eddie corrected. Mrs. Gory nodded, then scribbled out a barely legible list of schools for him to look up online.

 

Eddie furrowed his brows. The only thing he recognized on here was the University of Maine. What the fuck was a Tuft?

 

As he walked home with Richie, who was currently expounding on his plan to move to LA after graduation and live under a bridge if he had to, a thought popped into Eddie’s head. “Wait, Richie,” Eddie said. “You haven’t taken the SATs yet have you?”

 

“Dude, fuck no, why would I take those?”

 

“Richie, are you not applying to college?” Eddie said, frowning. “Your dad would run you over with his Vespa! He’s a fucking dentist! I’m pretty sure that requires, like, extra college.”

 

“I haven’t talked about it with them yet,” Richie shrugged.

 

“I’m coming over,” he said, resolutely walking up the driveway to Richie’s house. “We have to get you signed up.”

 

“What?” Richie squawked, scrambling behind him as they pushed through the front door.

 

“Hi, Mrs. Tozier,” Eddie said sweetly. She gave him a little pat on the head, which she had been doing since elementary school.

 

“Hi Eddie, what are you boys up to?” she said.

 

“I’m signing Richie up for the SATs,” he chirped.

 

“Oh, good, I was just about to remind you,” Richie’s dad said, sweeping into the kitchen. Eddie tried not to stare. Mr. Tozier’s skin was very, very orange and his teeth were very, very white. “You keep him on his toes, Eddie,” he said, kissing his wife with a rather loud _smack_ as Eddie and Richie scrambled up the stairs to Richie’s room.

 

“So what’s got you all obsessed with STDs suddenly?” Richie asked.

 

“SATs, dumbass,” Eddie said, flopping belly up onto Richie’s bed. “It’s just, I’ve thinking more about the future, seriously,” he said. “And we are _not_ living under a bridge. And I don’t want to stay in Derry and work at Walgreen’s for the rest of my life with Mr. Keane.” He shuddered. “We can do anything. I mean, we’re not stupid, or at least, I’m not,” he said, earning him a well-deserved pillow to the head.

 

“Well, Ben and Bev want to go to New York, right,” Richie said.

 

“Yeah, I think Bill does too, and Stan is basically Harvard or bust,” Eddie said. “Mike is probably going to get a scholarship to Boston for basketball.”

 

“Fuck, we’re all splitting up,” Richie said, slumping in his chair. “That blows, man.”

 

“Yeah, it does,” Eddie grumbled, his voice muffled. He had burrowed his head into Richie’s pillows.

 

“Where do you want to go?”

 

“I don’t know,” Eddie said honestly. He didn’t really care for New York. Just thinking of the crowded streets and trains gave him a twinge of anxiety. He wasn’t like Bill, who wanted to go there for writing, or Bev, who wanted to go there for fashion, or Ben, who wanted to go there for Bev. Maybe somewhere quieter, where he and Richie could walk to class together in a nice quad with well-kept hedges. He imagined a clean dorm room, with him cooking spaghetti and meatballs and Richie setting up the table. Afterwards they would watch a shitty movie, maybe _The Wicker Man._ Or, what was that movie Bev mentioned? Brokeback Cowboy? Yeah, Brokeback Cowboy. He thought of sharing a bed with Richie, whose body was like a furnace and would definitely keep him warm in the winter.

 

Richie had that faraway look on his face again, like he was imagining the same thing even though Eddie knew he couldn’t be. He had a soft smile, and for once Eddie wished it was directed at him. Hold up. Eddie sat up in the bed. Wait, was he a gay cowboy? Was he gay for Richard Forsythe Tozier? _Fuck._

 

“Scoot over,” Richie said. He flopped sideways onto his bed, earning a pained squeal from Eddie.

 

Their faces were so close that Eddie could see Richie breathing. Richie reached over, pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s nose, and cooed, “Cute, cute, cute!”

 

Eddie groaned. “That tickles, dummy,” he said. “And your lips are dry as fuck.”

 

Richie grinned and reached over to the back of the bed, producing an economy-sized jar Vaseline. “Let me moisturize,” he said, smacking his lips loudly.

 

“Ugh!” Eddie said, scooting away. “You’re probably dipped your whole dick in that thing.”

 

“Nah, my dick’s way bigger,” Richie said. He stood up, and indiscreetly adjusted himself through his shorts.

 

Eddie flushed. He didn’t want to make it weird. “Whatever, my mom already told me you have a micropenis. Come on, let’s go outside before your mom and dad start getting frisky in the kitchen.”

 

They ended up just walking around the neighborhood, talking about everything and nothing. “We could just do what they did in _Accepted_ ,” Richie said, “And make our own school. We could call it Framingham Union College. FUC. I bet your mom would let you go if we just set it up in the hospital lobby.”

 

Eddie snorted. “You could date Marsha. You know, the woman with the pink wig. I’ve seen her checking you out.”

 

”Damn, Eddie, you’re so heartless,” Richie said, suddenly frowning and stopping in the middle of Pleasant Drive. “She had breast cancer.”

 

Richie enunciated _breast_ extra hard, pausing for effect.

 

“Shut up!” Eddie said, slapping him in the stomach. “You’re such as asshat.” 

 

The sun was disappearing through the trees, which meant Eddie had to get home for dinner soon or his mom would have a fit.  But this thing. He didn’t ever want it to end.

 

At home that evening, Eddie googled a few things. _University of Maine. Tufts. Duke._ Then, thinking of Richie, _Ed Hardy._ _Gay age know_ and _confirm gay._ It wasn’t that the thought had never crossed his mind before. He had an inkling when he was more into Justin than Britney. But he had sort of kept it under wraps. He figured he could always date girls if he _had_ to. Plus, his mom would totally freak out. The losers probably wouldn’t care. And Richie, aggressively heterosexual Richie who probably thought about boobs 24/7, he wasn’t sure what he’d think.

 

 **TrashmouthSmashmouth:** eddie spaghettiiiiii  
**EdKaspbrak89:** yeah  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** wentworth signed me up for fucking sat prep class  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** ON SATURDAYS  
**EdKaspbrak89:** i think thats a good idea, you need all the fucking help you can get  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** eds you wound me  
**EdKaspbrak89:** have you ever heard of duke  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** duke who  
**EdKaspbrak89:** its a university  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** are we going  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** ill go anywhere with you


	5. Chapter 5

Richie was his best friend, but Eddie and Bev had an understanding. Something about growing up with overprotective single parents, probably, though when it came to dysfunctional, Sonia Kaspbrak has nothing on Alvin Marsh. So, the next day, Eddie dragged Beverly straight into the school library after AP English.

 

“Jesus, Eddie! Slow down!” she said following him behind a large bookshelf.

 

“I have to talk to you about something _very important_ ,” Eddie whispered. He pulled Bev down so that they were crouching near the floor.

 

“What? Spit it out!”

 

“Ok. I think- I think I like guys,” Eddie said, taking a deep breath in. “Like in a gay way,” he said. He shakily exhaled, carefully reading her face. First, her eyes widened a fraction, and then she blinked and nodded as if something had finally clicked.

 

“And?”

 

“And!?” Eddie whispered, not so quiet now. “I just came out of the closet! To you! Last I heard, that’s a big fucking deal!”

 

“Sorry,” Beverly said, patting him hastily on the shoulders. “I just,” she paused. “I sort of suspected. No offense,” she added.

 

”Shit, seriously? Do you think the other guys know?” Eddie whispered nervously.

 

“Not for certain,” Beverly said, shaking her head. “I think we’ve all thought it but, you know, we wanted to give you room. And we don’t care! I mean, we care, but we don’t care that you’re, you know,” she said.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Am I that obvious?” Eddie frowned.

 

“No,” Beverly said, “it’s just that you and- nevermind. I just have a sixth sense, okay?”

 

Eddie nodded. “The other thing is,” he said, “I was thinking about it, and I think- I just want to make sure. Like maybe, I don’t know, kiss a guy or something.”

 

Beverly smiled slyly. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

 

“I don’t know! Someone just to check. But I haven’t seen a single gay guy in this godforsaken hellhole, have you?”

 

“Well,” Beverly started. She sensed an opportunity here. It could be so, so good or a total shitshow. She just had to be careful. “Why don’t you try it with someone you actually like? Otherwise you won’t feel anything.”

 

Eddie chewed on his lower lip. “That’s a good point,” he said. Very logical.

 

She looked at him expectantly.  

 

“I don’t like anyone but,” Eddie lied. “I guess Richie isn’t totally awful.” He let that hang in the air for a second.

 

“Yeah, Richie’s a great idea,” Beverly said. “Better than some rando who’s going to kiss and tell. And I don’t think he’d get mad.” Beverly said. 

 

Eddie nodded. “He wouldn’t?”

 

”Trust me,” she said. Well, if she was right, probably not mad in the way Eddie would think.

 

”Okay,” Eddie said. “But  _don’t tell anyone_. ‘Specially not Richie, got it?”

 

Eddie didn’t try to enact his big gay master plan for several weeks. It wasn’t for the lack of opportunity. He still walked home with Richie almost every day and saw all the losers on Saturdays, though Richie, Mike, and Bill didn’t join them until the afternoon because they were all in the same SAT class. But, every time he thought about pulling Richie aside and asking him to … _experiment_ , he realized that he didn’t just want to experiment. He wanted to go to dinner and a movie, and then kiss on his doorstep (Richie’s, not his, because his mom would have a stroke).

 

There was also the problem of Richie’s burgeoning fan club, Richie wanting a girlfriend, and the upcoming homecoming dance, which threatened to collide in a terrible way that would ruin Eddie’s plan entirely. Richie had ruled Stephanie out because of the braces (which Eddie felt wasn’t totally fair, but he wasn’t going to complain), but Eddie could feel others waiting in the wings.

 

But, apart from Ben, Beverly, and Mike, the first one to get a homecoming date was surprisingly Stan.

 

“I don’t know, it just happened,” he said during lunchtime, chewing on a celery stick. “We were talking about the photo booth for homecoming during the SGA meeting, and I just asked her if she’d want to go with me.”

 

“Fuck, I didn’t know SGA stood for Stan Gets Ass,” Richie said.

 

“Do you like Ashley?” Eddie asked.

 

“I mean,” Stan said with a shrug. “She’s nice. She’s a good treasurer. And we both have to go to homecoming anyway, because it’s mandatory for the SGA.”

 

“How romantic,” Mike laughed.

 

“She wanted to go as a group,” Stan said. “Actually, she has a few friends. If you guys want dates,” he said, looking toward Ben, Richie, and Eddie.

 

It turned out that Richie didn’t need Stan’s help, though, because a week later, right after taking the SATs, a girl in Richie’s class cornered him while he was buying a Coke from the vending machine and popped the question.

 

“How was the test, sweetie?” Richie’s mom said when she picked him up.

 

“Uh, good, the test was good,” Richie said, more jittery than usual.

 

“You look kinda of nervous. I’m sure you did great.”

 

“Monica asked me to homecoming after the test,” Richie blurted out. And he had said yes. _Fuck._ She had gotten to him in a moment of vulnerability. He was just trying to get a Coke, for Christ’s sake.

 

“Oh, that’s great, hon!”

 

“No,” Richie said, “That’s not great! I don’t even know why I said yes, I was just tired as fuck and she came out of nowhere like one of those annoying geese.” He flopped down dramatically on the backseat, but barely fit with the extra inches he had gained over the summer. “I wanted to go with someone else.” _Like Eddie_ , that long-suffering, suppressed voice in his mind said.

 

When they arrived home, Richie scrambled towards his computer.

 

 **TrashmouthSmashmouth:** eds ive fucked up  
**EdKaspbrak89:** im sure you did good  
**EdKaspbrak89:** i dont think you can technically fail the SAT  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** no std was fine  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** monica tremblis found- nay ACCOSTED me after  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** and asked me to homecoming  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** i was soooo fucking tired i said yes  
_EdKaspbrak89 is typing_  
_EdKaspbrak89 is typing_  
**EdKaspbrak89:** congratulations  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** she wasnt even the one I wanted to go with  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** fuckkkkk  
**TrashmouthSmashmouth:** eds you there  
**EdKaspbrak89 signed off at 9:20:21 PM**

 

Eddie didn’t consider himself an emotional person. Sure, he felt white, hot rage when his mom flat out refused to take him to the DMV for a learner’s permit, but he didn’t cry. When he had failed his first pre-calculus test, he felt a brief wave of humiliation and fear, but he ignored it and aced the next one. When he didn’t make the basketball team (or the softball team or the volleyball team), he didn’t really care, and took up flute. But now, realizing that he had probably been in love with his best friend for fucking _years,_ and it was probably their last year together, and it was already too late, he shamefully choked out a brief sob into his pillow before falling asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Eddie fully expected homecoming to be the worst night of his life. The group was meeting at Stan’s date’s house to take photos, where apparently the girls had been preparing for _hours_. Eddie had prepared exactly the amount of time it took to dry clean the only suit he owned and smooth his hair down. Thank god Bill was single too, so they dicked around while the other couples took photos. First up was Stan and Ashley, who looked less like a couple and more like two adult chaperones dressed up as high school students. Mike and Courtney could barely stand still for a photo, which interrupted their time sucking face. Next up was Ben and Beverly. Some of the other girls raised their eyebrows because Beverly had made her gown, a flowy sage-colored number, herself, but Eddie thought she looked beautiful. Richie and Monica were last: a study in contrasts, as Richie looked queasy and Monica looked ecstatic. She wasn’t awful looking by any stretch, Eddie had to admit, and to his dismay she didn’t even have braces. Stan’s date Ashley had invited a few of her girlfriends to be part of their group as well, and Eddie could already see one of them sizing Bill up. He sighed. He was going to be spending a lot of time at the punch bowl tonight.

 

 _Hips Don’t Lie_ blared on the speakers as they rolled into the school gym, which was decked out in blue and silver streamers and a huge banner that read, “HOMECOMING 2006”. A frankly terrifying cardboard cutout of their mascot, the Derry Devil, stood against one wall. Stan and Ashley excused themselves to go set up the refreshments, and the remainder of them formed a misshapen circle, awkwardly moving to the beat.

 

“Th-this is fun,” Bill said, as if trying to convince himself.

 

Eddie nodded. He saw Richie dancing wildly in the corner of his eye, Monica trying to get closer and nearly getting hit by his flailing limbs. At least they seemed to be having a good time.

 

The next song was unfortunately a slow dance. Everyone started pairing up and, to Eddie’s dismay, one of Ashley’s friends plucked up the courage to tap Bill on the shoulder and just about dragged him to the center of the gym. Eddie quietly slunk away to the refreshments, trying to see how slowly he could drink a glass of water while not making eye contact with anyone.

 

“Sucks to be single, huh?” a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Emily, a girl he had talked to a couple times in his calculus class.

 

“Oh, hey,” Eddie mumbled. “Yeah, and I fucking hate dances.”

 

“Me too,” Emily nodded. “Especially slow dances. Always the guys with the girls.” She shook her head.

 

“What would you rather have?” Eddie said, looking at her curiously.

 

“I’d dance with a girl, but I think everyone here would blow their top,” Emily smirked.

 

Eddie nodded, surveying the hallway, empty save for a few blue balloons that had escaped the gym. It was a sad sight. “You know what, we should dance,” he said.

 

She stared at him. “I meant I’m lesbian,” she said flatly. “I thought you were ....”

 

“Yeah, so what,” Eddie said, feeling bold. “I’m gay, you’re lesbian. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have fun. C’mon.”

 

They walked back to the gym, taking up prime real estate in the center, swaying so ridiculously to _Never Had a Dream Come True_ that Emily nearly knocked out another couple. Eddie snorted. In the corner of his eye, he caught Richie and Beverly talking quietly. Beverly put both hands on his shoulders, which she usually did when she was trying to convince you of something. Was she the girl Richie wanted to take? Is that why he got that faraway look in his eyes, because Bev was so obviously taken?

 

Once the warble of S Club 7 died away, Eddie tried to jump up and down to _Everytime We Touch_ with the rest of the group, but he felt like a ton of bricks.

 

Then, Eddie saw Ben walk over to the two, and nearly froze, half-expecting Ben to sock Richie in the face. Instead, Ben joined their conversation, taking Richie’s hands in his own and saying something that made Richie nod solemnly, then the three of them returned to the group as the next song came on, as if nothing had happened. Bev caught his eye, giving him a giddy thumbs up. Eddie was so confused. He felt Richie’s hard torso against his back, jumping in time with and screaming the lyrics to  _I‘m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You_. 

 

_You are the girl that I've been dreaming of ever since I was a little girl  
You are the girl that I've been dreaming of ever since I was a little girl_

 

Somehow, with every measure, they seemed to move further and further into a faceless throng of sticky teenagers.

 

“Having fun?” Richie said, his elbows up against Eddie’s ribs, breath hot against his face.

 

“Yeah,” Eddie managed to gasp.

 

“I have to tell you something,” Richie said.

 

“What?” Eddie yelled.

 

”I LIKE YOU,” Richie screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the entire student body singing.

 

 _One,_  
_I'm biting my tongue_  
_Two,_  
_He's kissin' on you_  
_Three,_  
_Oh, why can't you see?_

  
_One! Two! Three! Four!_

 

 _Fuck it_. Richie grabbed Eddie’s face, brown eyes still wide open, and pressed their lips together.


	7. Chapter 7

Eddie honestly didn’t remember exiting the gym. Or the eyes that followed them, which perhaps didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary since they had always been joined at the hip. But somehow he was in the backseat of Richie’s dad’s brand new Mercedes C-class (thanks, midlife crisis!), his bowtie hopelessly askew, making out with his best friend like they were the last two people on earth.

 

When they finally pulled apart, Richie had a dopey grin on his face.

 

“So,” Eddie ventured. “What were you going to tell me?”

 

Richie let out a laugh, an honest-to-god laugh at the fuckery of falling in love that he had been holding in for years. “I like you, Eds,” he said, carding his hand through Eddie’s soft brown-almost-black hair. “I mean, I love you. I’ve probably loved you since before I knew what love really was.”

 

Eddie buried his face in Richie’s chest. “I love you, too,” he mumbled, breathing in the familiar sweat and sea breeze cologne. Then, he sat up.

 

”Also, jesus christ, Richie, I didn’t even know you were gay. You were always talking about boobs!” he slapped Richie’s stomach.

 

”Yeah, but I didn’t even know you were into humans!” Richie squawked. “You kept talking about dying of STDs!”

 

“Well, because you can,” Eddie huffed. “Testing is _very_ important. Also, did Bev tell you?”

 

”Uh, yeah,” Richie said, wiping his glasses, which had fogged up during their impromptu makeout session. “Actually, she just told me you came out to her and then told her not to tell anyone, but I guess she was sick of waiting,” Richie said.

 

”Hmph,” Eddie replied. “I guess I should thank her.”

 

”Yeah, and to be fair,” Richie said, “I did ask you out in P.E., remember?”

 

” _That’s_ your idea of asking someone out? No wonder you’re still a virgin! Plus, that was after like, a week straight of you talking about California boobs like you were some fucking ... bosom connosieur.”

 

“Boobs are whatever, your ass is better. Plus I wouldn’t care if you had two boobs or no boobs or fucking unicorn horn, I’d fuck you anyway,” Richie replied, with what he hoped was a winning smile.

 

“Thanks, Richie,” Eddie snorted, diving in for another kiss. So, Eddie Kaspbrak had been totally wrong. All in all, it had been the best night ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You is from 2008 but fuck it.


End file.
